Faelene.
The golden's head shot up at the recognition of the faint scent drifting on the spring air. It sent pictures of the garnet tressed beauty flashing through his mind, and feathered limbs shifted almost instantaneously into a brisk canter towards the Throat's Northern border. His poor bonded, graced with the fitting title of Ember, scrambled to stay balanced on his back. A bothered sqauwk came from her small beak, obviously displeased with the sudden jolt of motion. She had come to connect with the massive pegasus, but his strange movements were still quite new to the youthful eagle.

Ice blue eyes scanned the horizon, finally catching the glint of ebon. A dusty stallion stood near her, and for the briefest of moments, unease grasped his chest. But the sight of the stag was a familiar one; he was Yiska, the newest scholar to the Throat. He would not pose any threat to Faelene; yet the mere sight of another male near her was enough to set his primal side on edge. Flaxen locks thrashed as his pace quickened even more.

"Faelene."
He greeted her softly, nearly breathless as he slowed to a halt a few steps away. It was no easy task, but he resisted the desire to go any closer. Not when what they had was so risky, and not when one of his herd members was present. It would be too dangerous for the both of them. Ember warbled inquisitively, her own gold stare flicking from the black unicorn to the equine. She kept her keen eyes on the strangers, but settled back into a more comfortable position on her bonded's back.

"Yiska, this is Faelene, a good friend of mine." He nodded to the dun as he gave the simple explanation, then turning his eager sights back to the silver eyed lady. "It is good to see you, Faelene. Much has happened since we last spoke." His chords hid the affection he felt for her expertly, but what fondness could be held in his frosted pools was present. There were many he knew who had not noticed his changes; unaware that his normally golden eyes had morphed into blue, nor the constant frost that laced his henna wings. But Faelene would see, surely, for she had looked upon him so intently in the past. Bald, burnt patches of skin still lay in haphazard patterns across his forelimbs and running to dot across his lower face, though Tor's healing had done the injuries well. Spots of Ember's young wings also showed the bare remains of the fire, though her pain was thoroughly eased away. What would Faelene think of this; of all the changes that lay so visibly across him?